The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ‘This is insupportable. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. Petite build, like herself. “I dare not,” she answered. He turned the water off and handed her a towel. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. .
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